


Boo! Seungkwan

by littleladysugar



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Ghost! Seungkwan, Ghosts, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Human! Vernon, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Ouija, Who was going to tell Seungkwan that the Wonder Girls disbanded, Willfully ignoring the mechanics of a ghost-boy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleladysugar/pseuds/littleladysugar
Summary: He was a ghost, he was a boy. Can I make it any more obvious?Seungkwan's nine years of happy haunting are disturbed when a pretty boy walks into his home. For the first time in forever, he feels himself being seen.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 15
Kudos: 142





	Boo! Seungkwan

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN! 
> 
> I wrote this fic in less than 24 hours because I realized I wanted to get it out for today. I've never written Verkwan before and this is all still very raw, so I hope you can look past the flaws and enjoy!! ♡♡

What a mess it is to be dead. Seungkwan’s gotten used to it by now, having been on the other side for nine years, but still.

A mess. 

The “other side” isn’t a dark abyss, inky black and stretching on forever. And it isn’t a promised afterlife, white and soft and full of deceased loved ones. 

For Seungkwan it’s a house falling apart at the seams on the outskirts of Seoul. And it’s a mess, a literal mess, and has been for the past 20 years. The house he resides in was abandoned by the living long ago. Rust paints the hinges of the busted-open front door a sickly orange, and once-blue paint peels off the walls in flakes and sheets. 

He’s sure that a family once sat on the couch he now lounges on, the stuffing exposed after time made its kill and left the prey behind. A wind from the chilled outside breathes life into the gauzy white curtains at his back, the glass window long gone.

Seungkwan huffs. This whole 'being a ghost thing' wouldn’t be _so_ bad if he could do more human stuff. Stick on some new wallpaper or even, God forbid, a _lock on the front door_ would make a world of difference. 

“So bored…” Seungkwan leans against the back of the couch until it growls in protest, some old spring deep beneath the cushions finally snapping. The boy tips so far back that he’s sticking his head out the window, seeing the world from upside down. 

Trees cling to the earth by their roots, leafy tops giving way to the cloudy night sky. Seungkwan frowns. He can’t even see the full moon tonight, the light pollution from Seoul is so bad. 

Through the grey trunks that stand like soldiers in a barrier against the living world, Seungkwan sees a moving shape. Nope- scratch that. Four moving shapes. 

Human shapes. And they’re getting closer. 

Seungkwan jolts upright. If it weren’t for the forgiving nature of his incorporeal body, he would’ve smacked his head on the splintered windowpane. Instead, he phases right through it. 

“God, _please_ tell me they’re going to some other haunted house in the middle of the woods and not this one,” Seungkwan pleads, crouching on the rotted wood floor. He peeks above the couch to see that sure enough, the four figures are headed his way. Which only makes sense, because-

“Nope. This is the only one.”

Springing into action, Seungkwan floats speedily up the stairs and away from the guests. He remembers that tonight’s full moon marks the beginning of October, and like demented clockwork, trouble-seeking university students have come knocking at his doorstep to experience the thrill of a haunt. 

Years ago, when he was but a newly minted ghost, Seungkwan jumped at the chance for human visitors. He had always been a people person, and since ghosts were doomed to lonely lives, the idea of actually encountering another soul was exhilarating. But Seungkwan quickly learned that not every face was friendly, and not everyone was there to get in a quick Ouija and be on their way. 

Seungkwan’s lips twist in a frown. He doesn’t want to think about that particular experience right now. 

Or about how, maybe 9 years ago, he would’ve been right there with these kids, exploring an abandoned haunt for some Halloween fun. But right now, he has to get them out of his house so he can return to moping about.

The first boy walks through the open invitation of a door, flashlight in hand. It’s as Seungkwan expected: university students.

Now that he looks closer, the first boy is quite short, and his face is young. But judging by how the black-haired kid behind him clings to the first one, expression mottled by fear, _he’s_ the youngest. Relief washes over Seungkwan when he notices they’re empty-handed. He’s had enough of the salts and the burning sage and the white candles. 

Next is a tall, slim guy with a mole right by his lip, and then- 

_Oh god._

Seungkwan gulps. Even in the pale wash of moonlight filling the house he can see how cute the last boy is. He has a nice jaw, one that Seungkwan and his round cheeks could only dream of, and swoops of short brown hair that scream ‘campus crush’.

But he’s still very much alive and invading Seungkwan’s home, so he shoves down whatever sensation is warming his not alive chest, and focuses instead on scaring. 

The youngest is the most on-edge, and therefore the easiest target. Seungkwan works up his ghostly apparition prowess, closing his eyes in focus. If he thinks about things really hard, he can do them. The longer he stays dead, the more capable he feels himself becoming. 

It’s quite easy to move a small object or make a sound, and so he brings a loose book on a shelf to the ground with a dull _thud!_ right next to the party’s feet. 

The youngest yelps in fear, cursing: “Oh please. Please. This place is definitely haunted.” with increasing volume. 

“I’m starting to regret this a bit,” says the one with the mole. Seungkwan feels himself beaming with pride. He’s damn good at being a ghost when he wants to be. 

Unease settles thickly on their shoulders, each aware of an inhuman presence. The crew explores the decaying living room deliberately now, fearing any errant step may trigger another ghostly explosion. Just to spice things up, Seungkwan inspires a creak of the wood flooring upstairs.

Meanwhile, Pretty Boy seems unfazed. 

He glances at where the book clattered to the ground, and then to the steps Seungkwan sits on, almost amused. Which pisses off Seungkwan more than he knows is justified, and he decides to amp things up and _slam_ the front door shut. Rattling against decayed hinges, the old door lodges shut with a metallic screech in its wake. 

That convinces Shorty and Scaredy to book it, but finding themselves unable to open the demolished wood, they start to panic. 

“It won’t open,” breathes the youngest, hip firm against the door.

“It won’t _what?_ ” 

“It won’t open, Jihoon! It’s stuck!” Scaredy repeats again, glaring at Shorty (whose name is not that). Panic makes his eyes glint white, and Seungkwan feels a thrill.

“What if you slam yourself against it? You know, like in movies,” says Mole Boy, desperate for something.

“That won’t work,” Seungkwan says to himself, just as Jihoon _bodies_ the door. And then does it again. The entire room winces as Jihoon staggers back, nearly knocking himself into Scaredy. 

“I guess movies are movies,” he finally decides, which is probably a good call since the others are picking splinters out of his windbreaker.

Meanwhile, Pretty Boy has cemented himself between his friends at the exit and the rest of the living room, ready to square off against whatever demon or spirit is lurking. It would be noble if it weren’t Seungkwan he was placing himself in front of, and feeling quite plucky, the ghost boy blows a raspberry in the other’s direction. 

Pretty Boy looks directly back at Seungkwan. 

Hazel eyes search the space where Seungkwan floats with such intense shock and curiosity that he suddenly feels very real and not like an apparition at all.

Yet there’s no _way_ this boy can see him. Seungkwan can _make_ himself seen if desired, but at this given moment he’s very much invisible. 

Except, under the scrutiny of this boy who looks to be his same age, Seungkwan feels uncomfortable alive.

The front door howls in protest as it’s wretched open by Pretty Boy’s three friends, who erupt in a chorus of celebration. Seungkwan all but jumps out of his skin, floating a little higher than he was before. 

“Vernon, come on! Let’s go man!” says Jihoon, pausing at the door frame to beckon Pretty Boy near, who is stupidly rooted in the same space, staring at what should be nothing, but is in fact Seungkwan. 

He snaps out of it with a mumbled, “Oh. Yeah, sorry. Let’s go,” and stumbles out the door frame after them.

“I was really protecting us with my life,” Vernon says, voice swallowed by the outdoors as he fades away. 

Seungkwan lets out a breath lodged in his throat. Not that he really needs to breathe, but he does anyway- and right now he actually feels kind of sick. 

Silence rings in his ears, bouncing off the barren walls of the house he is now alone in. Initially Seungkwan couldn’t wait to return to his scheduled moping, but- 

Vernon is suddenly there again. 

Panting, he stands in front of Seungkwan, scanning the room with chilling focus. Without thinking, Seungkwan floats right back up the steps and out of sight. The last thing he wants is to be subject to the intensely warm scrutiny of this random boy, and so he waits against the fractured banister of the stair’s landing until heavy footfalls carry Vernon back to his living friends.

“Sorry guys, thought I left my phone,” he lies. 

It was _not_ a phone that Vernon was looking for. 

* * *

Days pass and Vernon doesn’t come back.

Not that Seungkwan expected him to, but maybe he was… _hoping_ just a little bit that Vernon would be curious enough to return. 

It’s not every day that a human walks into your haunted house and sees you. Normal living people don’t perceive ghosts with enough confidence to stare them in the eye. 

Days pass and a group of middle schoolers visit, followed by a couple who for some reason think walking through an abandoned building is romantic. But they’re not Vernon, and Seungkwan hates how antsy that makes him.

Though he can’t feel or smell it, the air grows crisper and the birches that shroud Seungkwan’s sanctum ignite in a blaze of orange and red. Quickly as their supernova of color comes, they die out into shades of brown that fall and blanket the forest floor.

Still, no Vernon. 

Seungkwan entertains himself by practicing the Wonder Girls routine he’s had in his head for the past 9 years. He moves bigger objects with each haunt and uses an old broom in the attic to sweep away the gathering cobwebs because, even though they add to the atmosphere, Seungkwan hates spiders. 

He’s dreaming about iced americanos and the end of October when he sees Vernon again. 

The living boy basically _crashes_ into Seungkwan’s home in a flurry of color, wearing an obnoxiously rainbow tie-dyed shirt and a beanie striped by all the wrong colors. 

Mirroring last time, it’s the dead of night, but Seungkwan can still see the lines of Vernon’s face lit by the moon. He’s not carrying a flashlight but rather using the light from his phone, holding it up and doing a pass of the room as if he owns the place.

Vernon doesn’t have anything with him- in fact, his clothes are barely appropriate for the weather outside, and while it comforts Seungkwan to a degree, he can’t let his guard down just yet. He knows better than this. 

“Hello?” Vernon says into the dark after what seems like an eternity. 

Seungkwan may be too impatient for a ghost but Vernon seems too patient for a human. He sinks down onto the old tattered couch that probably smells of mildew at this point and continues to wait, almost comfortably. 

This doesn’t feel like a usual encounter. It wouldn’t sit right with Seungkwan to scare Vernon away, and he doesn’t think the boy would go so easily either. Vernon is suspicious of Seungkwan- he’s there to see a ghost. One he knows is there.

Seungkwan perches at his familiar spot on the stairs, watching the gauzy curtains blow around Vernon’s figure. He waits, feeling compelled to do something and give a sign that he’s there, because against all his instincts telling him not to, Seungkwan wants to communicate with this person. 

Humans can make mistakes over and over again, but he’ll still forgive them. He’ll still pursue it, because Seungkwan misses people, and sitting right in front of him happens to be a very cute, non-threatening, and patient one. 

Sparks crackle alive in the moss-covered logs decaying in the fireplace. Glowing bright and hot for only a second, they fizzle out with a soft spit and the light is gone. 

Vernon hurls himself off the couch, catching his forehead on the fragmented windowpane right at the back, which Seungkwan had almost done a week ago. 

Except Seungkwan is a ghost and Vernon is a live human with blood- blood that is currently forming a scarlet rivulet down his forehead all the way to his nose. 

“Shit,” he says simply, as if he was ordering a coffee and not bleeding profusely in a very unsanitary house in the middle of nowhere. 

Before Seungkwan can stop himself he asks, “Are you okay?”

Vernon’s hand pauses mid-air as if someone has suddenly grabbed his wrist. Dark red stains his fingertips, but he’s clearly thinking about something else, hazel eyes fixed on the stairs.

Right where Seungkwan is. 

_Did he-_

“Who’s there?” Vernon says, with so much purpose that Seungkwan almost answers. But he bites his tongue, helplessly watching the blood from the cut seep past his nose and drip onto the floor in a perfect floret. 

“You can come out, I’m not gonna-” more blood drops, “-shit. Sorry, there’s blood all over your floor now.” 

Seungkwan _bursts_ into laughter, doubling over on himself and all but spinning in the air. He can feel the laughter from his stomach, which he didn’t know could _happen_ to ghosts.

“Are you laughing at me?” Vernon asks, and it only entertains Seungkwan more, because instead of freaking out over the fact he’s speaking to a _ghost,_ Vernon is concerned about the small amount of blood he’s left on the embarrassingly decrepit floor of an abandoned house.

“I am! I’m so sorry,” Seungkwan manages to say, “I just… what is up with you?” 

“What do you mean?” Vernon replies, and Seungkwan can _swear_ he sees him smile through the dark. He whips off his beanie and dabs at the blood on his forehead with it, effectively ruining it. 

_Good riddance_ , Seungkwan says- to himself this time. He clears his throat. 

“I’m a ghost and you just busted your head open and your first question is why I’m laughing at you? That’s what I mean.” Seungkwan says, floating off the stairway and across the living room floor to face Vernon.

For some reason, the sensors in his head telling him that humans are a danger are silent. Either Seungkwan’s gotten real dumb over time, or Vernon actually may be okay.

Vernon shrugs and says, “I’m not surprised you’re here. I thought there was a ghost here when I came with my friends, that’s the only reason why anyone comes out here. It’s like an urban legend.”

Seungkwan feels proud until Vernon says-

“But you’re not as scary as I thought.” His voice carries no malice, but it’s enough to set Seungkwan off. 

He crosses his arms firmly, pouting, “That’s pretty bold of you to say. This is still a _haunted_ house, you know.” At that, Vernon holds up his hands in defeat.

“That’s not what I meant. I just meant that you’re friendly is all.” Vernon says matter-of-factly, shocking Seungkwan. Why does he believe him? Maybe years devoid of human interaction have left him a social pariah, and he can’t get a read on people anymore. 

That must be it.

“Yeah well I’m a ghost, not a demon. But don’t expect Casper the Friendly Ghost either,” Seungkwan jokes, leaning in closer to inspect Vernon’s forehead. 

Vernon snaps his fingers and says, “Yeah, like Casper! I love that movie.” He’s so excited about this literal children’s film that he leans forward at the same time Seungkwan does. Vernon can’t tell, but they’re nose-to-nose, and Seungkwan propels himself backwards with such force that he phases through the fireplace wall.

_Can ghosts blush? Am I blushing?_

There’s no logical explanation for the proverbial hotness creeping up the back of Seungkwan’s neck, but Vernon speaking with him isn’t exactly logical either. 

“S-sorry,” Seungkwan says, entering the living room again. “I should watch where I’m going.”

“What do you mean?” Vernon asks, genuinely perplexed.

Seungkwan waves it off, remembering Vernon can only hear him- not see him- and says, “Nevermind.” Bashfulness washes over him and suddenly Seungkwan doesn’t want to be near the human anymore. He’d rather not experience whatever _that_ was again. Plus, the cut on Vernon’s head has stopped bleeding, so there’s no reason to get close anymore.

“What’s your name?” Vernon asks, eyes searching the darkness. Not in the mood to be stared at, Seungkwan slinks to the side. 

“Boo,” he says. Vernon raises an eyebrow.

“Is this a ghost joke?” 

“Seungkwan! Oh god, sorry. Boo Seungkwan. My name’s Seungkwan.” Now he’s babbling like an idiot and cursing the loss of all the beautifully practiced social skills he once had. 

“Funny name, Boo Seungkwan. Nice to meet you. I’m Chwe Hansol, but everyone calls me Vernon.” Vernon introduces himself, extending his hand out. When nobody immediately shakes it, because Seungkwan the _ghost_ is the only other soul in the room, Vernon takes his hand back and shakes it himself. “There, that counts.” 

Before he can get another word in Vernon’s phone rings fiercely from its discarded place on the couch. Picking it up and putting it to his ear, he immediately pulls a face unbefitting of such a god-like jaw structure, and winces away from the speaker. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was,” Vernon pauses to roll his eyes at Seungkwan, “I’m on my way back now.” He pockets his phone and walks backwards to the door, gaze somehow finding Seungkwan’s phantom form in the dark. The ghost can’t help but squirm just a little.

“Are you leaving?” Seungkwan responds softly, sounding like a kid who doesn’t want his friend to leave the sleepover- not an apparition who’s saying goodbye to the first person he’s had a conversation with in 6 years. 

“Yes, but- I’ll be back. See you soon, Boo Seungkwan!” 

Then he’s gone, leaving Seungkwan alone again, and more conflicted than he’s been in a long time. Involving yourself with humans never ends well.

* * *

The first time Seungkwan revealed himself to a living person was also the last time. 

He tries not to think about it too much. But when it’s the middle of summer and he hasn’t seen another soul in months, Seungkwan is a slave to his emotions. Warm rain showers blanket the birch forest outside his door in grey, a world that he can see but can’t quite step into, filling him with melancholy.

It was a girl with hair like woven sunlight that visited in the dead of winter. 

With only three years of paranormal experience under his belt, Seungkwan simply found it peculiar that such a young girl would be at his residence alone, and nothing more. Having a soft spot for kids, he decided to indulge her curiosity.

He should’ve noticed the fan tucked into her pocket or the musical bells she kept in her backpack, but Seungkwan was never handed a manual for being a ghost. He was just thrust into it against his will one night and left to figure out the rest.

Things started off slow. Every weekend, the girl would come to Seungkwan’s doorstep and ask for entry, and though she never received a reply she would come in and poke around. One day she brought a plate of apples and set them on the kitchen tabletop, as if in preparation for a nice family meal. 

Now Seungkwan was raised a polite boy. It didn’t sit right with him that this friendly little girl trudged through the cold and the snow all the time to see his truly messy house to receive nothing in return. 

The first item he gifted her was a pottery vase that the homeowners had discarded in the attic. Then a picture book from the child’s bedroom. Followed by a doll in admirable shape. 

He delighted in the chance to give something back to the living world that actually sparked joy and not fear. Seungkwan looked forward to each of her visits, finally finding a reason to exist. 

Being a ghost was lonely, but… maybe it didn’t have to be. Feeling his power growing significantly, day by day, Seungkwan decided to take the plunge and present himself. It took a bit of focusing and a lot of staring in an empty mirror, trying to visualize his human form and force his feet to touch the ground. 

Typically Seungkwan existed in a foggy white, as if his spirit had risen to the surface when he died, and covered his skin in a haze that sparkled like snow. 

Except when he looked in a mirror and saw himself for the first time in three years. Brown hair tinged with a box dye red, evidence of a failed experiment during exams. Rounded, high cheeks and plump lips.

The sensations with being alive, like temperature or the need to breathe, were absent. But he certainly looked the part, and could feel his own skin and rest a hand on the chipped porcelain sink. 

Seungkwan had a fleeting thought that the girl may be scared, but then again- _she_ was the one returning to an abandoned home in the middle of a forest every day to bring apples and pears. So if anything, she should be happy. 

The smile on her face when seeing Seungkwan for the first time was something precious. He would never forget it. He’d also never forget the next day, when she brought her mother along with her. 

And a knife. 

Ghosts couldn’t be hurt by knives, per say, but Seungkwan was once human and therefore not invincible. As old as time itself, there have always been practices to dispel ghosts from a space. 

By ignoring the literal warning bells, Seungkwan hadn’t noticed that this girl was training to be a shaman... just like her mother.

Her mother who now stood in Seungkwan’s home, brandishing a sharp knife and yelling horrible words that burned his ears. Pain seared hot through him, scratching at his very being. Even without his physical form, it hurt like nothing else.

He should’ve known. He should’ve seen this coming. There were so many shamans practicing in and outside of Seoul, and unlike prankster kids with crystal balls and lines of salt, shamans had the power to eradicate spirits. 

Spirits like Seungkwan. 

To this day, he can’t recall why he fought tooth and nail to stay in the house or even how he did. The only thing he remembers is the face of the girl and her mother leaving, defeated, and a promise he made to never show himself again. 

* * *

So far, Seungkwan has a clean record. He has always been able to scare and haunt visitors and send them running without so much as showing his face.

October means that Seungkwan should be in his prime, terrorizing every stranger curious enough to visit. Every October was always like that. So never in his afterlife could Seungkwan have predicted the events of the past couple weeks as Vernon starts knocking at his doorstep on a regular basis.

Days pass on like they always have, but with Vernon’s nightly visit to look forward to, Seungkwan finds the waiting periods unbearable. No longer is he satisfied by practicing idol routines or conducting an imaginary Rookie Variety Award acceptance speech. Not even honing his ghostly prowess can keep him preoccupied.

For God’s sake, he can’t even leave the house! If he wants to mope about some boy, he can mope!

They start slow with talks about Vernon’s life. He’s studying music at the same university that Seungkwan went to, but luckily they choose to gloss over the concept of Seungkwan’s mortality and focus on their shared love of media instead.

He learns that Jihoon, Jun, and Chan were the boys accompanying Vernon when he invaded Seungkwan’s home on the first night. They all attend classes together and study various performing arts, reminding Seungkwan of his college days attending vocal training sessions and holding recitals.

“I miss singing,” Seungkwan says one day.

“Can ghosts not sing?” Is the question Vernon throws at him in response, and it’s so sincere and honest that Seungkwan has to physically stop himself from giggling.

“We can. But it’s not like anyone can hear me,” he informs gently, “so it feels different. I guess I miss singing in front of people, then.” 

“I’d like to hear you sing,” Vernon says, perking up.

“Nope. I’m far too out of practice,” Seungkwan refuses, and the hopeful look that dissipates from Vernon’s face leaves him feeling like he’s kicked a puppy. 

Vernon pauses thoughtfully before he asks, “What’s it like being a ghost?” The question is not a surprise to Seungkwan, but he’s secretly shocked it took Vernon this long to ask. Maybe he thought it was rude.

“It’s what you’d expect. Phasing through walls, moving things, making noises. The longer you’re a ghost, the more powerful you get, and the more you learn.” Seungkwan continues, “I can’t leave the house, but enough people come here during Halloween to keep me busy, like you and your friends. I basically get visitors every night.” 

Realizing he’s been speaking for too long and Vernon looks disinterested, Seungkwan stops. He always had a habit of talking a lot.

But then hazel eyes are fixed on Seungkwan’s misty form, and he suddenly feels quite vulnerable. 

“So people just come here all the time. And you scare them,” Vernon says.

“Yeah, essentially. I don’t do it to upset anyone, and I would never hurt somebody! But… people come here to get scared, so I want to entertain them. They _like_ being scared- I can’t imagine why- but it makes them happy. And it’s not too hard either, you’d be surprised.” Seungkwan waves his hands in explanation, pleased to see that Vernon is still quite engaged, listening intently. 

“That’s cool, dude.” 

Talking to Vernon is dangerously easy. 

Seungkwan wants so desperately to push back against him but can't find the strength to _,_ and it makes him feel like an idiot. It becomes increasingly difficult to resist spilling out every detail of his life during their talks, so Seungkwan convinces himself it’s because Vernon is the first person he's talked to in years.

“Don’t your friends ever ask where you’re going? Not judging here, but I don't know why you'd want to spend all your weeknights in a cabin in the woods with a ghost,” Seungkwan asks one night. 

Vernon is perusing the old novels on the bookshelves, their spines worn with age or tattered by being pushed to the ground during Seungkwan’s hauntings. He acts like it’s the most natural thing in the world, but Seungkwan can't convince himself that being here is the most valuable use of Vernon's time.

Vernon shrugs and says, “I don’t know. You’re fun to be around. Also, I see them every day at class so I’m kind of sick of them at this point.” Vernon grins to top it off, turning to face the direction Seungkwan is floating in, who would _absolutely_ vomit if he could. 

Why Vernon being so nice, and _why_ has Seungkwan let it reach this point?

Instead of doing something about it, Seungkwan does the exact opposite and focuses his energy on a book about astronomy that Vernon’s been thumbing through for the past 20 minutes, snapping it shut in his hands. 

If Vernon is offended, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Want to take that with you? It’s got some stuff in it that, legally, I don’t think they even print anymore. Probably wildly factually inaccurate.” Seungkwan rattles off. Maybe he’s finally lost his marbles. Or it could be that Seungkwan is so touched Vernon decides to spend his free time with such a miserable ghost boy, that he wants to do something nice in return.

“That’s sick,” is all Vernon says. 

The two dissolve into laughter, and Seungkwan hurls another book off the shelf at Vernon, just missing him. 

When Friday the 16th rolls around, marking two weeks of their weird friendship, Vernon is once again sitting in the attic with Seungkwan instead of going out with other humans. 

They squat together on an old, torn blanket that Seungkwan stretched out across the remaining floorboards. He’s sure it smells like moth balls and death but Vernon doesn’t seem to mind. Right now, he’s too engrossed in telling Seungkwan about his classes at university to notice. 

“In my producing class with Jihoon-”

“The short guy?” Seungkwan asks, grinning. 

“Yes. But don’t call him that-,” Vernon reprimands gently, and Seungkwan nods as if Vernon can see him and as if it’ll stop him from calling Jihoon short. Jihoon can’t even perceive Seungkwan. 

“Anyway,” Vernon continues, “he and I got to team up for a project. We had no time but we pulled it together and the professor loves it. She said she was _impressed_ and wanted to meet with us about some new project.” Vernon’s bragging but he’s trying not to show it, hiding his satisfied smile under the dip of his chin and playing with a loose thread on the rug.

“Vernon, that’s great!” Seungkwan responds, genuine in his excitement. “That’s so cool! _You’re_ so cool! Oh my gosh, you should celebrate somehow. It’s only a matter of time before you’re producing for famous people and releasing your own tracks on something that’s not Soundcloud.” He gives a little round of applause, not quite sure if Vernon can hear, but hoping he can. 

“Celebrate?” Vernon asks, bringing his eyes up from the very interesting piece of carpet he’s been playing with for the past 10 minutes. As always, he stares directly at the place where Seunkgwan floats. 

“Duh! Go out to a bar or throw a party with your friends, do some karaoke. You deserve it,” Seungkwan exclaims, believing in it wholly. Though he’s tried to stay somewhat cynical about their time together, Seungkwan has failed miserably and sadly thinks that Vernon’s the coolest person ever. He should be focusing on his living life and all of its exciting possibilities. 

“Nah, I’m not big on parties. And don’t diss on Soundcloud, you barely know what it is.” Vernon says, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Ok rude, I absolutely do! If it weren’t for Soundcloud I wouldn’t have heard the Wonder Girls. I went out and bought their album right away and I’ve been a fan ever since,” Seungkwan rebuttals. 

Vernon may have a lot of knowledge on what’s currently hot, but Seungkwan will never let his Wonder Girls badge of honor be taken away.

“Oh, the Wonder Girls! That makes sense,” Vernon teases, and if it weren’t for a lack of a corporeal form, Seungkwan would push him over and through the open hole in the floor.

“I bet they’re superstars by now, huh?” Seungkwan asks. 

What he’s not prepared for is the way Vernon’s face drops.

“Oh Seungkwan. Did nobody tell you?”

“I’m a ghost, Vern,” Seungkwan scoffs, because how stupid do you have to be to ask that. “Nobody is exactly coming in here to talk about k-pop.” 

“The Wonder Girls disbanded.”

He phases through the floor. 

* * *

“Don’t even talk to me, Hansol Vernon Chwe,” is all Seungkwan can say the next time Vernon walks through his door. 

The human scoffs, “Don’t be like that.” 

“Leave me alone. I’m mourning! You have no idea how this feels,” Seungkwan laments, drifting gloomily down the stairs to meet Vernon, who enters wearing a yellow beanie and headphones slung around his neck.

Seungkwan can still make out the lines of black and white on each birch tree in the forest, bathed in the fading light of sunset. Vernon came earlier than he usually would, which (unfortunately) makes Seungkwan less upset. 

“Sorry I had to break the news to you,” Vernon says, pulling what looks like a lunch box out of his backpack and setting it on the kitchen table.

Seungkwan breathes a big, heaving sigh, “It’s okay. I guess I’d rather find out than spend an eternity of happiness where I thought the Wonder Girls never stopped making music.” He pauses for dramatic effect, sneaking a look at Vernon, who seems completely focused on his tupperware. “What’s that?” 

“My dinner,” Vernon answers, popping open the lid on a thermos. Seungkwan winces- it’s definitely not sanitary to be eating food in this home, even if Vernon is in the kitchen. He had to tiptoe through broken glass just to sit down.

Inching closer, Seungkwan sees a steaming container of fluffy white rice, seaweed soup, and…

“Is that cheese and tomato?” Seungkwan can’t help but ask, pointing at the last container Vernon takes out. Much to his surprise, Vernon looks almost embarrassed- choking on a peal of nervous laughter.

“Yes, my mother always made it for me when I was younger. I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d just bring my dinner-” Vernon stops, eyes widening. “Sorry, is that rude? You can’t really eat, so… my bad.” 

Seungkwan lets out a flurry of assurances, “No, no, don’t worry at all. I don’t mind.” 

The last time any food was present in his abode, it ended in a knife at his throat, but… though it could be considered stupid, Seungkwan trusted Vernon not to do that. 

As time went on, Seungkwan really believed that the human just came to talk. He barely asked anything of Seungkwan but was more than willing to answer any questions the ghostly boy had. It felt great to have something to look forward to and to lean on. 

Because even after an attempted expulsion and years of people who never heard him singing or came just to mess with things, Seungkwan still likes people. He misses them, even.

“Okay, thank you. Sorry I didn’t ask. I didn’t know…” Vernon is still talking and it snaps Seungkwan out of his daze, who has floated waywardly towards the living room. He comes back to the kitchen, watching Vernon pick up a slice of cheese and tomato and bundle it with rice.

Seungkwan can’t help but laugh, “You ate this growing up? Is it good?” 

“Yeah! Uh, well to me it is. My mom’s American and my dad is Korean so I grew up eating a mix of the two. An average person may not like it though,” Vernon jokes, shoving down another mouthful off his chopsticks. 

“That’s cool,” Seungkwan comments off-handedly. At this point, everything Vernon does is proving his coolness. Even eating questionable combinations of food or beanies and sunglasses every day of his life.

“Where are you from?” Vernon suddenly asks in-between chews. 

Without a single brain cell to stop him, Seungkwan says, “Jeju. I grew up there.” He pauses, tense, but Vernon is still eating like nothing happened, and Seungkwan feels himself relaxing.

“I’ve never been to Jeju. But my little sister Sofia loves tangerines, so I want to take her there.” Oh god- is Vernon even real? Seungkwan just about _melts_ , because that’s the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. So much for trying to keep a guard up- he can just about hear it crumbling to the floor.

Seungkwan feels light and fuzzy when he says, “I love tangerines. My uncle owns a farm and he would bring us fresh tangerines every weekend during the growing season.” 

“Oh yeah?” Vernon responds, smiling. “That sounds awesome.”

“It was,” Seungkwan answers, chuckling to himself, “my sisters always beat me to the best ones, though. They would literally elbow me out of the way to get first pick.”

“Sisters,” Vernon laughs, shaking his head. Seungkwan thinks that Vernon is probably an amazing older brother, and if given the chance, would be a better younger brother to Seungkwan’s sisters than he ever was. 

“I miss mine,” Seungkwan almost whispers. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, vulnerability making him dizzy. “I wasn't nice enough to them when I was alive.”

“I bet you were,” Vernons says, just as quietly, and Seungkwan thinks he could die all over again. “You’re too hard on yourself.” 

“I hope they don’t miss me too much anymore.” Seungkwan doesn’t know why he isn’t stopping himself but it’s the truth. After 9 years, he hopes that the thought of him no longer hurts. 

Silence washes over them, but there’s no pinpointing whether it’s the good or bad type. After some time, Vernon begins packing up his dinner and making to leave even though it’s much earlier than his typical time. Fear bubbles up in Seungkwan- fear that he’s gone too far or said too much.

Vernon pauses at the door and says, “I have to go. See you soon, Seungkwan.” But the expression on his face tells the ghost that’s a lie. 

Days pass and Vernon does not return.

* * *

It’s _embarrassing_ how devastated Seungkwan is. He should really pull himself together.

A whole week has passed since the last time Vernon visited. 

Of _course_ Seungkwan just had to bring up the fact he was dead and had a family, scaring Vernon off. After all, what living person would voluntarily want to hang around a sad ghost boy who gets too emotional and offers nothing but rotted relics from the house he haunts? 

Certainly not Vernon, who clearly has a vibrant life of his own, and probably realized he was insane for sticking around Seungkwan. 

This is all his own fault, really. He doomed himself to this eternal melancholy that night Vernon walked through the door.

After some time, he decides to stop wallowing around and focus on haunting instead. 

A gaggle of young kids with a Ouija board visit, shaking in their boots but motivated by peer pressure to keep going. Seungkwan concludes it’s a particularly cold night by watching the light frost bloom near the bare window panes of his home. All the boys are bundled up to their noses in coats and mittens. 

They place the Ouija board on the ground in proximity to the couch where Vernon’s blood has stained the floor wine red. Too close for Seungkwan’s comfort, he decides to scare them out as quickly as possible. 

One of the children notices it and shrieks, “Ew! Oh my god- it’s like someone _died_ here,” to which Seungkwan rolls his eyes. Well, _duh_ someone died here, that’s why it’s haunted. 

Unfolded and set up, the kids lay their hands on the planchette and fight over what to ask first. Amused more than anything, Seungkwan makes things interesting by sending a ghostly chill down the chimney, scattering soot over the floor. 

“Shit I think it’s working-” Politely, Seungkwan is going to ignore the fact a kid that young should not be swearing and give them a good show. He focuses his energy on the white plastic planchette, moving it to the ‘G’ scrawled on the toy board. 

‘E’ is next. Followed by a shaky ‘T’. While moving the token, Seungkwan waywardly thinks that these boys should’ve come more prepared. If he was a vengeful ghost or even a demon, they would be seriously hurt. 

“Get?” one says, afraid of his own words. But he’s smiling- all of them are- and Seungkwan feels a rush of pride. 

Seungkwan deliberately moves the planchette to ‘O’. Then ‘U’. He doesn’t even have a chancer to move it to ‘T’, because the children scream bloody murder, their shrill voices stark against the silence of the forest. They scramble over each other to stand up and flee the cursed grounds, leaving the Ouija board behind. 

Fond laughter bubbles out of Seungkwan. _Man, that was_ _fun._ He could do so much when he spent his time scaring humans instead of talking to them!

Funny enough, Seungkwan hated all things horror when he was alive. He would much rather stay home and watch Son Dambi stages than go through a corn maze or watch a movie filled with jumpscares. It took all the convincing in the world just to get Seungkwan to the house he now (ironically) resides in, and even longer for him to get used to the creaking of the attic and general unease of his permanent resting place. 

He decides to clean up and move Ouija Board to the attic where it can collect dust with the other items discarded by visitors. There’s other ouija boards and old candles that burned to the wick and now collect in pools of wax. Seungkwan’s personal favorite is a radio transmitter from last Halloween. Brought in hopes that Seungkwan would change the channels and speak to them, left behind after several failed attempts. Now strong enough to use it, Seungkwan likes to listen to the radio from time to time, but it’s so old it often turns off. 

Just as Seungkwan is milling through his ghostly wares, there’s a sound downstairs. 

“Huh,” he muses, “usually I don’t get more than one person a night.” Floating down through the hole in the attic ceiling, Seungkwan phases through the bedroom and into the living room. 

“Seungkwan?” 

It’s Vernon. 

He’s wearing a helmet on his head instead of his typical beanie, strap cinched too tightly at his chin. Tipped onto its side haphazardly at the entrance is a bike- meaning Vernon _biked_ here- and Seungkwan simply can’t imagine why.

“I know you’re here.” Vernon almost sounds- annoyed? Seungkwan has never seen him annoyed before. His backpack thumps to the floor with a heavy noise, startling the ghost boy. 

Why is he back? He was supposed to be gone forever. Seungkwan had spilled too much, made him uncomfortable- and it was for the best. It was dangerous for _both_ of them to continue on like this. 

Yet here Vernon was, grabbing something out of his backpack and waving it in the air.

“Seungkwan seriously! I have something for you!” Vernon calls into the unanswering abyss. Seungkwan’s gotta hand it to him, the boy’s persistent. 

"What do you want," Seungkwan decides to say, and he doesn't know exactly why, because that's no way to greet a friend (if he could still be considered one).

Then he looks closer. In Vernon's hand is a bright orange fruit, the color of a honeyed summer sunset. Seungkwan recognizes it immediately and lets out a soft gasp. 

“Is that a tangerine?” he asks, tentative. Vernon’s hazel eyes are lit by an emotion that Seungkwan can't quite pin.

“Yes. From Jeju. It’s for you.” 

What the _fuck_. Seungkwan inches forward and gently takes the fruit from Vernon’s open palm. If he were alive, their fingers would have brushed together. But he’s not, so the tangerine floats in midair, suspended by Seungkwan’s focusing of power. He manages to cradle the fruit in his hands, gently, admiring the dimpled, round surface.

“I can’t even eat this,” he nearly whimpers, looking to where Vernon is standing. As always, Vernon stares right back. 

“I go to Jeju to get you a fruit and that’s all you say?” Vernon is teasing, but guilt immediately washes over Seungkwan. He loses his focus and the tangerine tumbles to the ground. 

“You- you did _what_?” 

Vernon shrugs as if spontaneously flying to Jeju is nothing, but he’s clearly blushing. “Sofia wanted to go. So her and I decided to hop over there for the weekend. I… I wanted to bring you something from home.” His smile is nervous, brows furrowed, like he’s worried that he’s offended Seungkwan. 

Ghosts can’t cry tears, but Seungkwan is sobbing. Except it's oh so happy, and has him folded over just about the ground, halfway between a laugh and a sob. He can't comprehend why Vernon would've done this for him. 

“Are you okay? Seungkwan?” Vernon reaches out to the boy he can’t quite see or touch, and Seungkwan shakes his head. Just by the direction of his voice, Vernon can tell Seungkwan is on the floor, and kneels down to join him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Seungkwan sniffs, “this is just the nicest thing anyone has done for me.” 

They stay in silence like that for a moment. Seungkwan collects himself as best he can and picks up the tangerine again, staring like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He can almost smell it if he focuses enough, the aroma of citrus igniting memories of warmth, family, and eating tangy fruit with his friends in early autumn. 

Seungkwan never got to say goodbye to his family. But holding something as simple as this tangerine, he feels comforted.

Finally, he speaks up, "Vernon, I don't know what to say." 

“Well... I _do_ have something I'd like you to do for me." 

Vernon’s words strike terror in Seungkwan’s body and he pauses, caught between a pendulum of mind-numbing happiness and sudden fear. He remembers the blonde girl when he says,

“What do you mean?” 

“I want to hear you sing.” Vernon answers, and relief hits Seungkwan like a wash of ice water. 

“Right now? I’m a mess,” Seungkwan protests. His voice is garbled by emotions and he feels like he’s just ridden a roller coaster- he’s in no state to sing, especially in front of Vernon. 

“Yeah, alright. Fair enough. But my request still stands,” Vernon says, leaning back on his heels until he’s resting up against the couch. He casts what Seungkwan thinks is a sympathetic look to the ground, with the same intensity that all of his stares seem to have, and Seungkwan sighs.

“Just give me a minute.” 

Vernon grins and Seungkwan wants to slap him.

“Y'know, I thought you’d never come back. You're such a jerk! I spilled my heart out to you and you just left for an entire week,” Seungkwan rebuttals, laughing breathlessly at how ridiculous he’s being. 

But Vernon, ever-patient, takes it and says, “I’m sorry,” and they continue waiting on the floor in silence until Seungkwan decides he's ready to sing. 

He inhales once, twice, and begins a song that, funny enough, he had actually made in a songwriting class, one at the university that he and Vernon share.

Perhaps in a different timeline they would’ve written this together, been partners. The teacher would’ve praised them, and they would’ve gone to a cafe and gotten the frilliest coffees they could to celebrate. Seungkwan could’ve held Vernon’s hand and enjoyed the warmth. He could’ve called his mother, who would be back home in Jeju making her famous spicy crab, and told her that her son was doing well and was going to make her proud and not to miss him too much. 

But in this timeline, they are a boy and ghost sitting in the drafty living room of a haunted house in the woods. Which is better than nothing, Seungkwan decides, as he finishes singing. As long as he gets to know Vernon, _everything is alright_. 

“Wow,” is all Vernon says. Lit by the waning moonlight, his face is dipped in silver and so open and honest that it hurts. After years of hiding, he still feels embarrassed at being so seen, but because it’s Vernon, Seungkwan doesn’t mind as much.

“You have a beautiful voice. Seungkwan, you’re _so_ talented.” Vernon continues, brimming with wonder. Then he hastily says, “We should write together,” like he’s piecing a plan together right _now_ , and Seungkwan chokes.

“What do you mean _write_ together? In case you forgot, I’m not exactly alive.” 

“But you can sing. And think. And pick up a pencil,” Vernon says, “you could be a _ghost writer_. We could make something together.”

Seungkwan forgoes being offended by Vernon’s awful joke because the other boy is pulling a pencil and paper out of his backpack, already scribbling messy lines of writing. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, floating to peer over Vernon’s shoulder.

“A rap verse, to go with your song. Is that okay?” Vernon asks, peeking at Seungkwan with stunning accuracy, as always. They’re nose to nose again, just like on the night they met. 

“That’s more than okay,” Seungkwan says. 

He’s past the point of no return. Seungkwan is now a part of Vernon’s life, just as Vernon is in his. No matter how hard he searches and how many excuses he tries to come up with, Seungkwan can’t rationalize the idea of pushing Vernon away. 

“Hey Vernon,” Seungkwan starts, watching Vernon’s pencil still, “you should bring your friends back.” 

Vernon looks up, questioning. 

“If they want to, I mean. I was a little harsh that first night, and I’d love to scare them again- but, like, actually have fun.” Seungkwan offers. It’s the least he can do considering all Vernon has given him, and since he’s decided Vernon is someone to be trusted, Seungkwan expects his friends to be okay, too. 

Vernon’s face splits in a grin and he says, “Of course. I think they’d like that.” 

The last time Seungkwan trusted a human, he was stabbed in the back. Literally. But Vernon is different, he can feel it. 

So silently, he promises to himself that the next time Vernon sees him, he’ll _actually_ see Seungkwan. For the first time. 

* * *

Seungkwan awaits Vernon’s arrival with the patience of a toddler. He’s been fiddling around with the house in anticipation, letting the cobwebs grow in and encouraging leaves to blow through the front door, patterning the rotted hardwood. 

Closer and closer to Halloween, the moon is fuller than ever, swelling with white light that spills across the shadowed forest. Spooky indeed. The perfect night for a perfect haunting. 

Positioning himself at his usual perch, Seungkwan lingers nervously near the stairs for Vernon and his friends to walk through the door. Vernon said they’d come tonight- he even came yesterday during the _day_ to tell Seungkwan, and helped him set up a couple books and kitchen utensils. 

He knows it’s the right choice to trust Vernon. After weeks of visiting, Seungkwan can tell he’s nothing like the girl shaman from 7 years ago. Vernon is true and honest and actually cares about what Seungkwan says. He shares his music and laughs at Seungkwan’s stupid jokes. He’s a good person. 

One that Seungkwan owes a lot to, and is about to give the scare of his life. Whether that’s the actual haunting itself, or the presentation of his physical form that comes after, Seungkwan’s not sure. 

Was it possible for ghosts to sweat? If so, Seungkwan was definitely sweating. He’s questioned too much of his anatomy lately. 

Then there’s a commotion at the front door. 

A band of four kids stumbles through, flashlight in hand, and-

Seungkwan’s stomach sinks. 

It’s not Vernon, or Jun or Jihoon or Chan. It’s four high schoolers, armed with milky white candles and bundles of sage. One clutches a bouquet of sickly pale roses in their hands, knuckles tense to match the color of the flower. 

They’re not here for a haunting. They’re here to get rid of Seungkwan. 

Unlike the shaman from years ago, these guys use modern practices- no doubt methods they had found on the internet, but powerful nonetheless. When set with positive intentions, candles are notorious for weakening ghosts and carrying out the power of the user. Sage is the most common way to ward off phantoms, so no surprise there, but the white roses they carried were perhaps the most dangerous at all.

Known for sucking any and all otherworldly energy from a space, Seungkwan already felt his body weakening, giving way to the poisonous barbs of such a seemingly pretty flower. 

“Hey ghost- get out here! We know you’re here,” threatens one of the guys. Seungkwan tries to float further up the stairs, but feels himself getting… heavy. 

“State your name! Can you hear us?” calls another, setting the candles to the floor and striking a match. As each one spatters to life, Seungkwan feels as though he’s been stabbed, a searing pain racing up his spine. 

Then he realizes what’s happening, as the fogginess dissipates from his limbs and his body begins to take shape. He’s being pulled into a physical form, forced to show himself, weakened by the exertion it takes.

It’s only a matter of time until he’s done for. 

Seungkwan can’t remember how he got out of it the first time by escaping the shaman and her daughter. Which would certainly be helpful information right about now, but all Seungkwan can think about is how much it hurts, and… how much he wishes Vernon was here.

Now _he’s_ going to look like the asshole, leaving forever without ever saying goodbye. 

Seungkwan’s body is fully formed now, limp against the staircase and increasingly uncomfortable. Vague footsteps ring like alarms in his ears, bringing the intruders closer to wear he lays. 

“Get over here, you-”

“What’s going on?” A new voice. Seungkwan… he recognizes this voice. 

“Who the fuck are you?” barks back the highschooler who was just about to climb the stairs. Seungkwan hears a scuffle, hears someone hit the floor, and raised voices biting at each other.

“Seungkwan!” 

It’s Vernon. The voice is Vernon. And he’s coming closer, to the staircase, where Seungkwan is- 

“Where are you?” Vernon is panicked, not recognizing the body slumped against the stairs is Seungkwan, his physical form bare. Although he wanted to introduce himself to Vernon, this is definitely _not_ what he had in mind.

Seungkwan’s body aches with the burden of existing and fading at the same time, but he has to say something, so he croaks out a pitiful, “Here.”

The last thing he remembers before slipping into pure darkness is Vernon, and the feeling of a hand against his cheek.

* * *

How long he stays in that state, Seungkwan has no idea. It could’ve been weeks or it could’ve been days, each spent in a swathing void that threatens to choke and drown. He feels sick and weak, sensation that no ghost should experience. 

When he comes to, Seungkwan is staring at himself in a mirror. 

Golden candlelight drips across his face, casting a crescent of shadow against the high of his cheeks. Eyes framed by lashes blink back at him- _his_ eyes- and he looks to his chest, still and lacking breath or a beating heart. 

“What…” he mumbles, betrayed by his own voice crackling painfully to life in his throat. Why is he still here, and why does he have a body? 

“Seungkwan?” It’s Vernon. 

Suddenly Seungkwan weaves the situation together into a foggy, mental tapestry. He passed out on the stairs, real body vulnerable and there for the world to see. It was Vernon that happened to find him, sprawled out and on the verge of a second death. 

“Vernon?” he croaks out. 

“Yeah,” the boy says back, his typically even voice marred by emotion. Is he crying? “It’s me. Are you okay?” 

“I don’t know,” Seungkwan laughs. He doesn’t know why he’s laughing, but he can’t help it, and he kind of wants to cry, too. A watery shadow looms over his face, slowly taking form and revealing features so familiar it hurts. 

Vernon’s expression is twisted in concern, and truly under his scrutiny for the first time, Seungkwan can’t help but turn his head to the side, avoiding those hazel eyes. He doesn’t want to be seen, not like this.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Vernon murmurs, recoiling like Seungkwan’s rejection of his gaze was a physical sting. “I brought… um, I brought candles. And a mirror. I read that it would help.” As always, Vernon is punishingly patient and kind. Despite Seungkwan’s stubborn nature, despite his immaturity in accepting Vernon’s help, he persists. 

Looking to his left, Seungkwan realizes there’s a ring of purple and yellow candles encircling him, washing lively dances of flames against the peeling grey wallpaper. Vernon must’ve done his research, because instead of causing searing pain, they give Seungkwan strength. 

He’s so overwhelmed that he can’t even respond properly. Vernon did this all for him? Instead of leaving him to die a second time, to be eradicated from this earth as he should’ve been 6 years ago, Vernon _saved_ him. 

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Seungkwan says, and the moment the words leave his mouth he’s crying. He feels embarrassed and scared, but also very much in need of a nap and forever indebted to the impossibly kind and lovely boy that’s crouched by his side. 

“Why not?” Vernon asks, unaware of the floodgates of emotion he’s brought forth from Seungkwan. And then: “You look beautiful.” 

“That’s not what I mean at all,” Seungkwan manages to choke out despite the deluge of tears that spring forward from his eyes. It’s been so long since he’s felt the physical sensation of crying, and he happens to be laughing at the same time, because Vernon is _ridiculous_. He’s just ridiculous, and Seungkwan can’t do anything but sit back and come along for the ride. 

Suddenly there’s a hand on his skin and Vernon is leaning forward, brushing his fingertips on the slick space of Seungkwan’s cheeks, feebly trying to wipe away the tears that won’t stop coming. 

“No, I just meant-” Seungkwan says, letting the physical contact happen, “I _did_ want to show you what I look like I just- didn’t want it to be because some guys tried to _murder_ me and you had to save me.” 

Vernon chuckles like Seungkwan just said the stupidest thing in the world.

“We can have a redo, if you want. I didn’t mean to… make you uncomfortable or anything,” Vernon says. Seungkwan closes his eyes, feeling very dizzy. 

“Please, _please_ stop being so perfect. I can’t even thank you enough for all you’ve done,” Seungkwan breathes out. He feels better now- still weak, but strong enough to return back to his ghostly form and rest for a while, thanks to Vernon. 

“Seungkwan- stop. We’re friends, I care about you. You don’t understand how…” he trails off, voice cracking at the seams. Seungkwan peeks his eyes back open to see Vernon staring at him unwaveringly. “When we came in and saw those guys, I just knew something was wrong. I couldn’t just let them _hurt_ you.”

Against his best senses, Seungkwan reaches a hand to Vernon’s face. The soft palm of his hand meets Vernon’s cheek, eyes searching for something. 

“Thank you. I’d be gone if it wasn’t for you,” Seungkwan says, quiet. If he speaks too loud, he’ll shatter their little bubble of existence. 

“I don’t want to lose you.” Vernon whispers. 

Then, he cups his hand at the nape of Seungkwan’s neck, gentle and light. Vernon lifts Seungkwan’s head like he’s something precious, and all of a sudden the boy’s lips are on his- soft and tender. 

It’s just a brief press but it’s enough to make Seungkwan see stars, and he reaches his arms to link them behind Vernon’s shoulders, who’s supporting them both. Seungkwan has never felt so safe in his entire life. 

Without warning, just as Seungkwan thinks Vernon is about to pull away, he deepens the kiss and- 

_Poof!_

Seungkwan no longer has a body. The sheer surprise of the moment has caught him so off-guard that he has simply _poofed from existence_. 

Vernon, no longer holding the boy that was _just there_ , frantically reaches his hands out to the ground to avoid smashing into it face-first. 

“Oh my god- Seungkwan? Seungkwan are you there?” Vernon panics, looking around and finding nothing. 

“I’m here, I’m here!” Seungkwan manages to say, still on the ground with Vernon hovering above him.

“I thought I killed you,” Vernon breathes, and the idea that a kiss could have killed him is _so stupidly sweet_ that Seungkwan bursts into laughter. 

“No no, I’m alive. Well I’m still dead, but I’m here. And I’m glad- or else I would’ve missed that.” Seungkwan says shyly. Is he flirting? Is this flirting? 

“Oh thank _fuck_ ,” Vernon curses, finally calm and acting as if he didn’t just _kiss a ghost boy_.

“I really owe you one. I don’t think I can ever make this up to you,” Seungkwan groans, because how in the world is he supposed to compete with a knight in shining armor?

“You don’t need to do anything for me, Seungkwan. But…” he pauses.

“But?”

“I can think of one thing.” 

* * *

Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean Seungkwan can’t have a life. For that, he has Vernon to thank.

The next few days pass in a blur, leading up to the fated night of Halloween: October 31st. In order to repay Vernon for all his kindness, although Seungkwan thinks it’s hardly enough, they are on track to give Jihoon, Jun, and Chan the scare of a _lifetime_. 

Energy crackles in the air, Seungkwan’s paranormal abilities at an all-time high. For the first time in years it’s a full moon on the last day of October as well, and it plunges the world into an eerie silken existence. 

Luckily nobody else has decided to come tonight. The stories of Vernon and his friends chasing off the last group probably spread like wildfire, and Seungkwan guesses it’ll be a while before someone else tries their luck.

Jihoon and Chan enter first, both significantly lacking confidence. Much to Seungkwan’s delight- they’re wearing costumes. Chan is a sloppy Michael Jackson with a fedora on his head, and Jihoon is a… Iron Man? 

They hold flashlights in shaking hands, and Jihoon is clearly trying to play off his fear, but it’s not working. Just as they take a step forward, Seungkwan sends a bone-chilling whisper to their ears. 

They stop dead in their tracks, blocking up Jun, who’s dressed as a Chinese ghost and trying to push through his friends.

“You guys said we would stick together, can we please not do this,” he whines, talking faster than Seungkwan thought was humanly possible.

Vernon is bringing up the back, in no hurry to enter and ready to play his part. Seungkwan’s breath catches for a moment when he sees what the human is wearing. He’s a _vampire_ , which is just rude, with his hair gelled back and a set of fake, pointy teeth. Unfair.

Just as Vernon’s friends cross the threshold into Seungkwan’s domain, he _yanks_ the old front door shut and holds the handle, locking them inside.

“Vernon!” Chan yelps, turning around. 

“I can’t get in. Aaaah,” says the other boy, sounding _completely_ unconvincing. But his friends believe it and now Seungkwan’s got them right where he wants them.

Dropping the temperature of the spot they’re standing in to bone-chilling, the boys scatter, trying to distance themselves from whatever “unexplained” phenomena just occurred. 

“That was freaky- can we please leave? I regret this. I regret it so much,” says Jun, speaking even faster now and very clearly panicked. Except he seems excited- _thrilled_ \- and so do Jihoon and Chan as they cling together, desperate to move in a unit. 

Shadows pass in murky suggestions of a person against the walls, wicked and threatening. Seungkwan hurls butter knives that Vernon had planted on the kitchen table to the floor, barely heard over the screams of the university students. 

They make a run for the stairs to where Seungkwan waits, preparing his biggest scare of all. 

What took days of planning and concentration, especially after the accident, has reached a crescendo of fear and anticipation. Seungkwan has decided to take a modified version of his physical form, half-ghost and half-human, making himself as horrifying as possible. 

His legs dissolve into nothingness and he hangs his arms limply forward like a zombie, posed menacingly at the top of the staircase, moonlight outlining his form in a foreboding black. For dramatic effect, his hair is slicked forward, covering the warmth of his eyes. 

Jihoon, Jun, and Chan freeze dead in their tracks at the base of the staircase upon seeing Seungkwan. 

“What the FUCK-!” Jihoon screams, grabbing Chan and Jun by the arms without hesitation, and _dragging_ them back through the living room. Seungkwan follows them with a gust of wind, having half a mind to think this may have been too much and he just scared Vernon’s friends to death, but the boys are having fun. 

They’re grinning like maniacs and laughing as they scream and high-tail it out of the house. Vernon wrenches the door open just in time to let them out, trying to conceal his amusement. 

Seungkwan floats down the stairs, just enough to see the human boy at the door, who is looking right back at him. 

Unlike all the other times, it’s not just a scarily accurate guess into the dark. Vernon meets his eyes and waves his hand, as if to say, _“Bye, see you soon.,”_ wearing that stupid grin that he always does.

Instead of blowing a raspberry, Seungkwan presses his hand to his lips and makes a loud kiss, sending it off in Vernon’s direction and feeling all types of silly about it. 

But Vernon is just as big of a fool as Seungkwan- if not a bigger one- and he catches the imaginary kiss in his hand, clenching his fist to his chest. 

This is the best October of Seungkwan’s afterlife.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts:   
> 1\. The song Seungkwan chooses to sing is his Ideal Cut solo "Alright", which Vernon once got a verse on  
> 2\. I'd like to think that Vernon got the tangerine from Seungkwan's uncle's farm, even if he didn't notice the coincidence
> 
> Please follow me on Twitter @boogyuhao if you'd like to talk Verkwan or SVT!!
> 
> Thank you to my lovely friend Emma for caring about me and editing this fic, it would be a pile of jumbled words if it weren't for you. (●´ω｀●)
> 
> HAPPY HALLOWEEN AND STAY SAFE! HOPE YOU LIKED IT! ♡


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